


Morning People

by professortennant



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:52:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with him offering her a ride to set...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning People

He's not a morning person. Not in the slightest. He likes lazing around in bed when he can--snatching extra minutes in the warmth of his sheets. He revels in the general lethargy he feels in those first waking moments.

She, on the other hand, bounds out of bed--a ball of energy, ready to take on the new day. 

It irritates him to no end, especially when she won't bloody stop showing up at his door every morning.

He'd offered her a ride to set off-handedly one day, he didn't realize she would take it so seriously.

And seriously is a whole new level with a determined Billie Piper. She rings the doorbell and hops up and down on her the tips of her toes and bobs her head to some mysterious beat in her head. Her hands are full with cups of tea--Earl Grey for her and Black English Breakfast for him. 

He doesn't know how to feel her knowing how he likes his tea--dash of milk, no sugar, double teabag (to be fair, he knows how she takes hers, a spoonful of sugar and splash of milk--she doesn't like exact measurements). 

She greets him fully dressed, fully decked out in all of her make-up, and the brightest smile he's ever seen on another human being.

"Morning, Chris! Ready to get going? It's beautiful today, isn't it?"

She says that every morning, even when it isn't a beautiful day. Even when it's pouring with rain or snowing or freezing or boiling hot.

He maybe finds it endearing.

But every morning, he grumbles, takes his tea from her, and sweeps his arm in a grand gesture, inviting her in while he gets ready for the day.

He's never ready on time.

It irritates her to no end.

She likes the first bursts of sunshine on her face in the morning, signaling the start of a new day. It makes her feel energized and prepared. She likes flinging back the covers and getting started--staying busy, seeing what a new day has to offer.

She likes seeing him first thing in the morning, too. She likes waiting in his front room, scanning his bookshelves, dragging her fingers over framed photos and trinkets and knick-knacks.

She likes listening to him grumble in his bedroom even more. She likes hearing him hiss and sigh when the first dregs of tea his his tongue (he never remembers to let it cool. She thinks he might like the initial burn). 

He finally comes out--loose grey t-shirt and well-worn jeans and he looks so soft and warm and----She stops those thoughts. She's been down this road before--older bloke and all. It didn't end well.

She watches him smile softly at her and grab his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. 

"Ready for another day?"

She smiles brightly and waits. His own lips twitch and she feels at ease. Her smile always him smile back. She loves his smile.

"I'm always ready, let's go!"

They do it every morning. He's never ready on time. She starts to get to know the barista at Monmouth with each order of tea. Eventually, he ends up just giving her a key to his flat. It'll be much more pleasant for everyone involved.

The first day she uses the key, he's still asleep and she has to take deep breaths to calm the barrage of butterflies in her belly when she pads into his bedroom and sees him half-asleep in bed. She puts a hand on his shoulder and gently shakes him awake, calling out his name softly.

Her breath catches when his eyes flicker open and meet hers, so open and unguarded she can hardly believe it's still him.

His voice is rough with sleep, "Time already?"

She nods and he groans, stretching and beginning to move to get out of bed. She's sympathetic. Their hours have been insane and their time on set has drained both of them--him more than anyone. 

She excuses herself to his front room and waits, just like she always does. Stick to the routine, Piper.

And they do continue this dance for as long as possible--treading the line between intimacy and friendship and everything in between.

They still irritate one another in the mornings--at least until their 2nd cup of tea.

And then the end comes. He leaves her, the Doctor regenerates, and Rose has to carry on.

Billie has to carry on.

That doesn't stop her from stopping by his flat after it's all over, tea still in hand, nervously biting her lip. She uses her key (what? He never asked for it back. Part of her hopes he didn't want it back). 

It's dark in the flat and she thinks about opening his blinds to let a bit of sun in before opting against it. She drops the cups of tea down onto the table and follows the familiar path to his bedroom.

He's sleeping, snoring slightly and arms raised above his head, legs spread out and the comforter slipped low on his hips. She thinks he looks beautiful.

She reaches a hand out, trails her fingers over his hair and down his nose and across his lips before attempting to shake him awake, "Chris...Chris..."

Her voice is sing-song and she realizes she has no idea what to say to him when he wakes up. Why is she here?

His eyes flicker open and he groans.

"No."

She laughs. He's predictable, at least. He's still not a morning person.

"It's a new day though. C'mon. I miss you already."

That last bit slips out and she doesn't mean to. She bites her lip as if she could take back the words.

He smiles, lazy. He's still sleepy, still warm.

"Me too." His eyes slip close and he sighs deeply before nestling back into his pillow. Chris grabs her hand on his shoulder and tugs so she stumbles closer to him, into his bed.

"'M gonna make you less of a morning person, Piper. Let me show you the finer points of sleeping in."

She doesn't know what to do--doesn't know what it means.

But she's warm and his arms are around her and his sheets smell so good and okay, yeah, that is his nose pressed to the back of her neck and his breath warm on her skin.

She definitely sees the finer points of sleeping in.

Being a morning person is overrated, anyway.


End file.
